


Coming Home to You

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 06:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21333448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: Ignis gets dragged off and mauled; Gladio doesn't know how he'll live with himself if Ignis succeeds in dying.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 18
Kudos: 133
Collections: Fics from the Basement, Ignis whump October bingo 19





	Coming Home to You

Ignis didn't feel the pain immediately. Instead, the first thing he was aware of was the too-loud crunch of fangs against the bones of his shoulder, and then dizzying disorientation as he was dragged away from the fight. He was too heavy for the coeurl to carry at top speed, but he knew it was greedy and didn't want any of the others to steal its dinner. The pain kicked in as his body stuck the rocky ground, and he couldn't help crying out and struggling, even though that made it worse.

He had absolutely no intention of becoming a meal, however.

The instant the coeurl stopped he dug his sharpest dagger into its neck, slitting through the windpipe to its spine. Dying, its jaws clamped tighter, and when it collapsed Ignis was dragged down. He shook, going numb with cold, even though the sun stood high. Shock, he supposed, and began the agonizing process of freeing his shoulder. He shouldn't use a potion before Gladio examined the wound, but the thought of postponing instant relief was torturous.

He _needed_ to be fixed; the pain was unbearable.

"You will be fine," he told himself, voice ragged from screaming, and made himself stand. Gladio would never let him hear the end of it if he let an injury get the better of him. He resolved to be fine just to impress Gladio, who'd tell him how strong he was, and kiss him, and swing him up into his arms. (He'd have earned the pampering, he told himself. Paid for it with blood.)

His phone was gone, but that wasn't a problem. He was fully capable of walking back on his own. He checked the lay of the land and made the assumption that the road lay east, and started walking down the scrubby hill. One of his legs had been wrenched badly and could barely take his weight. His arm dangled unresponsive at his side. His glasses were gone, and his shirt had been abraded from his back, along with a layer of skin. He refused to look back to check his progress, but his shadow lengthened, the stand of trees he was aiming for seemingly no closer.

He forgot, after a while, where he was walking, and why. All he knew was that he had to keep his feet and continue moving forward.

Night fell; he felt dread. His vision swam with dark spots. He was scared, and helpless. When he heard the crunch of rocks, footsteps heading fast toward him, he nearly cried with frustration. He summoned a dagger, which fell from his shaking hand. He summoned another.

"Iggy," he heard, the footsteps halting, blinding light filling the air. "_Fuck._ You're bleeding." And then, "I got you. You're safe now."

He knew that voice, and suddenly his stubborn will snapped. Gladio would take care of him, bring him home, to Noct. He wanted to say something, tell Gladio how much he adored him, but instead his eyes closed, and the world went black.

*

Gladio knew even before he got his hands on Ignis that he was dead. How could he be otherwise when he'd left a trail of blood behind him, easy to pick out by the light of his torch even without the tracking skills that had led him here. Ignis had used the last of his strength trying to defend himself, but his daggers lay on the ground, useless. When Gladio fell to his knees at Ignis' side, he could see his clothes were soaked through and stiff with blood.

He was well aware of the rules for using a phoenix down. The magic had real limitations: it must be used within a certain period of time after death, or else it was ineffective. It could revive, but if the cause of death persisted – a spear through the heart, for example, or poison – life would give away to death again soon after.

He checked the Armiger. Three phoenix downs. He hoped that'd be enough. He didn't examine all of Ignis' injuries, feeling the precious window of time closing quickly. Only two things mattered: that he was not breathing, and he had no pulse. Gladio grabbed one brilliant plume and smashed it into Ignis' chest, and then on the tail of that, while life was still burning back its way back, he snatched precious curatives from their supply and applied them. They had rules for their use, too, and he broke them with the same ruthless abandon. A broken bone would heal wrong if not set before using curatives, but his priority was to stop the bleeding and replenish what blood he could. That was all.

Get Ignis stable, even if he was fucked up. As long as he was alive, Gladio was over-fucking-joyed. He was not going to report back to Noct that he'd let Iggy kick it out here alone in the dark. He was not going to give up on someone he loved and respected, someone he wanted to build a future with. Ignis had some nerve, trying to die when Gladio'd been searching desperately for him for hours.

He directed his light on the big, visible injuries to Ignis' shoulder and leg, and ran his hands over his abdomen, not wanting to overlook internal bleeding. Under his hands, Ignis' breathing was shallow and rapid; his pulse was racing. Ignis' newly replenished blood had started to ooze from the pulped mess of his shoulder, so Gladio grabbed their first aid kit and started stitching up what he could. Ignis' body was as familiar to him as his own, and he hated seeing him damaged and in pain. He got now why Ignis disliked Gladio's scars so much. Iggy was going to have a bunch of scars from this, if he didn't lose the arm entirely, and it killed Gladio knowing he'd put them there.

Breathe in, out, a stutter, another breath. Gladio gritted his teeth with frustration. Noct and Prompto had gone for the car, but they needed to get here _soon_.

He set his phone on the ground and called to give them his location as soon as he could. He'd been against letting Cindy modify the Regalia – the car had been flashy enough, in his opinion; a truck would definitely attract attention – but right now that set of rugged wheels was probably Ignis' best hope for survival.

Noct must have stuck his phone in the cup holder; Gladio could hear it rattling around. "Tell me you got him," was the first thing he said, and Gladio answered _yeah_. "Thank fuck." Prompto muttered something that came out garbled, an expression of relief, and Gladio spoke over him, giving them directions, relieved when they said they were already in the neighborhood, no more than half an hour away.

"He's hurt bad," Gladio said. "We passed that hospital..."

"You use whatever you need," Noct said. "Until we get there. Royal order."

"I'd disobey any other order." Ignis started struggling to breathe again, and Gladio grabbed more curatives. He didn't have anything to say to Noct, but kept him on the line anyway, selfishly, for long tense minutes. The world around him was dark and full of potential threats; if he had to leave Ignis alone to go fight something off, he might not notice if Ignis died again.

As if trying to feed his fears, Ignis convulsed, tearing stitches loose as he thrashed and then went still, like a fish tossed on the dock to suffocate to death. Gladio couldn't find a pulse, again. He used another phoenix down, and then more curatives, and then scrabbled in the dirt until he found his phone, which had gotten batted away.

"Tell me you're close," he said, and almost immediately heard the low rumble of the Regalia's engine.

The glow brightening from beyond the hill could only be the best daemon-repelling lights Hammerhead could provide. "Yeah," Prompto said. "That's those trees, there's the cliff. Wave or something."

Gladio did, standing and flashing his own light. It'd suck if Prompto ran them both over, after all the work he'd done to keep Ignis around.

The Regalia pulled to a stop just a few meters away. Prompto'd had the courtesy to slow down, so the wheels didn't kick up clouds of dust. Gladio appreciated that. He gathered Ignis up in his arms, realizing for the first time that his back was one big seeping raw wound as well. Shit.

Noct was sitting shotgun, so Gladio got in the back and arranged Ignis as best he could across the seat, with his feet raised in his lap, and as soon as they were settled Prompto took off. Noct was slumped to the side, a hairs-breadth out of stasis by the look of him, but he kept up a steady rhythm: pulling a can or a bottle out of the Armiger, imbuing it with as much magic as he could, and then dropping it back in. As Prompto drove, Noct finished off Ignis' precious case of Ebony and started enchanting random crap. The cooking wine, the oil, a bottle of shampoo.

Gladio was too fucking grateful – and burning through too many potions – to tease him. Ignis died a third time just after they finally got back on the road, and Gladio had the phoenix down in his hand before he realized he should ask Noct.

"Do it," Noct said, like he didn't care that it was the last one. Like he'd climb back and kick Gladio's ass for even suggesting that he – that they – 

Ignis gasped to life again, and Prompto was going well over the speed limit. Time passed in a haze of curatives with unpredictable results, some too weak to be effective, some making Ignis whine with pain even though he was otherwise out cold. But finally the car rocked to a stop, and then the door was yanked open and someone tried to take Ignis away.

"Gladio," Noct said, and that was his command voice, demanding compliance. "Let go." After a moment he added, "Hospital." When Ignis had been rushed inside, Gladio didn't know what to do with himself, but then Noct said, grudgingly, "Give me a hand."

Gladio could do that. He was in better shape than Prompto, who had his head against the steering wheel, possibly crying. He ended up carrying Noct in on his back, dropping him in the waiting lounge across from the reception desk. Someone had to fill out forms, and Gladio guessed he was the man for the job. At least they let him use the bathroom first, to wash the blood off his hands.

The staff let him and Prompto donate blood, but not Noct, who despite his protest that he was fine, was still too faint to stand up. The blood tech gave Noct a cup of juice as well, saying he looked like he needed it. Gladio saw him blink, and then dully try to force magic into it.

"Just drink the damn stuff," Gladio said. "Keep your strength up."

Noct obeyed, making a face at the chalky sweetness. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and head hanging down. "Three times," he said. "He died _three times_."

"Fall down six times, get up seven," Prompto said inanely, still pressing on the cotton over the puncture mark inside his elbow.

Gladio told them both to get some sleep. He was too keyed up. Might as well take the first shift.

They both collapsed slowly onto Gladio from both sides, which made it hard for him to get work done, sending messages to Cor, Iris, Monica, and poking at their finances.

When Ignis was finally out of surgery, he was wheeled into a room and attached to monitors and an IV drip. Gladio shook Noct and Prompto awake and sleep-walked them in as soon as they got permission. The doctor said Ignis had done well: no amputation necessary, but they'd have to wait and see about organ failure or brain damage or more surgery to put in metal plates and pins. All those cautions made Noct throw his juice up in the bin, and while Prompto was apologizing for him the doctor jabbed a finger at the spare bed on the other side of Ignis' room and ordered him to lie down.

Noct passed out again as soon as he was horizontal, which left Gladio and Prompto to keep watch over Ignis. Gladio sat on his left, facing the door, and Prompto was on the right, practically under the bag of mysterious fluid dripping into Iggy's veins.

"I know about you guys," Prompto said, keeping his voice low. "Noct told me, ages ago. So... today was like your worst nightmare, I bet. You holding up?"

Well. It was a good thing Gladio was too wrung out to panic and Prompto was too titchy to be threatening; he knew Ignis would be horrified to find out anyone knew, and it was probably Gladio's fault, for staring at his ass too often. He leaned forward and took Ignis' hand between his own. He always wanted to give him things – fancy clothes, a place to live together, jewelry, really good coffee and not the canned crap – but what Ignis ended up getting, time and again, were apologies.

Someday he'd realize he could do better.

"I'm fine," he told Prompto. He rubbed Ignis' fingers, willing them to be healthy and not insensate or paralyzed because of the mess Gladio had made of his shoulder.

"And I'm Queen Livia the Red." Prompto squared his shoulders and gave Gladio what was probably meant to be a stern look. It was pretty funny; Gladio'd have laughed under any other circumstances. "Look. Iggy's going to freak the fuck out if he wakes up and sees you looking like a splatter film extra. Put on clean clothes, get the blood off your face, wash your hair if you can. When you're set, I'll go grab some food."

Gladio wasn't hungry, but he also knew he wasn't thinking straight.

"There we go," Prompto said after a long moment, like he was pretending Gladio had answered instead of just staring down at Ignis' fingers. "You've got clothes in the armiger, right?"

"Yeah," Gladio said, and made himself push his chair back, let go of Ignis.

He figured it was a good sign that he was rational enough to be able to do that. He didn't need to cling, he could be an adult. And it was also good because Ignis didn't wake up for a whole day, and Gladio needed to look after Noct and Prompto, too.

He was so fucking tired. He just wanted Ignis to open his eyes.

When Ignis did, he was loopy from the drugs and confused. It took a few hours of wakefulness, interspersed with naps and prodding by the doctor, before he was able to focus on much. It was good to see him acting more like himself, but the trade-off was that he was being switched from the good painkillers to less effective ones.

Gladio fussed over him, fluffing his pillow and rubbing his feet, apologizing preemtively for everything that had gone wrong.

"Gladio," Ignis interrupted with familiar impatience. "My head is pounding. I _hurt_. Please don't make me have to be the reasonable one."

_Shit._ "Yeah." Gladio sat up straighter in his chair, then pushed to his feet. "I'll just – " He waved toward the door, and Ignis' eyes widened.

"Don't _leave_ me," he blurted out, and his desperation was so raw that Gladio sat down fast, grabbing Iggy's hand.

Ignis never asked for comfort. They were alike that way, taking pride in self-reliance and competence. They were the people others leaned on.

"My apologies," Ignis said after a moment. His voice was rough and faint, like he'd sandpapered his throat. "I shouldn't worry you any more."

"You died." Ignis swallowed hard, and looked... ashamed, or something stupid like that. "You're fine now," more or less. "Noct went overboard with the curatives. I love you," he added dryly. "And you died in my arms three times. No other place I want to be than here."

"I knew you'd find me," Ignis said, closing his eyes. "Even though... I wasn't in my right mind, I don't think."

"Blood loss'll do that," Gladio said. "Get some sleep."

Ignis sighed. "You, too." His fingers in Gladio's twitched, like he was trying to hold on, but couldn't. "How bad – "

"You don't need to worry," Gladio said. "Just rest." He put his free hand on Ignis' forehead, brushing his hair back. "I'll take care of you."

But Ignis had already slipped back into sleep.

Gladio checked his pulse – he had to – and then leaned forward to kiss him, feeling Ignis' breath against his lips.

Still alive.

Strong.

Gladio stretched his legs out and closed his eyes, finally letting go of wakefulness, trusting Ignis to still be there when he woke.


End file.
